Under Fallen Stars - Mel Odom [77]
Then die, boy, the shark said, that you might be eaten!
Blackness blotted out Jherek's consciousness.
* * * * *
Coming to in the brig, Jherek wheezed and fought for his breath, drawing in great rattling draughts. He sat up, drenched in sweat from the fever. He blinked at the sunlight, finding everything too bright.
Across the brig, Tynnel looked at him but didn't say anything.
"Are you well, lad?" Hullyn asked gruffly, leaning forward to drop a big hand across the young sailor's shoulders.
"Aye," Jherek croaked. "Fever took me. I'll be fine." The chills settled in then, racking his body. He wrapped his arms around himself.
"Here you go, lad. Have a sup of water." Hullyn handed Jherek a metal dipper filled to the brim.
"Thank you," Jherek said, taking it gratefully. With them traveling along the River Chionthar, freshwater wasn't a problem. Over the days of their travel, they'd kept a barrel of water in the corner. Vurgrom's pirates topped it off every day. Everyone knew they wouldn't have done it on their own so the general consensus was that Sabyna had something to do with the arrangement.
"Damn blackhearts," Hullyn grumbled. "What you need is a decent meal and some rest abed. Your melon's coming along right fine, but being down here in this pestilence hole isn't doing you any good."
Jherek silently agreed. He drank the water slowly, enjoying the clean taste of it, but afraid his stomach would rebel if he gulped it down.
Food was another problem. The pirates weren't as generous with it. Breezerunner's crew complained about the lack of meals, but Jherek knew Vurgrom was intentionally half-starving them to keep them weak. All they got was a thin gruel twice a day. It was lowered in a big pot from topside, and the men used cups they'd been given to drink it. Even at that, there was never enough. Tynnel rationed it out himself, seeing each man got his share.
After slaking the fever-induced thirst, Jherek thanked Hullyn again and passed the dipper back. He tried not to think about the dream, but there was nothing else to think about. He'd dreamed about sharks before-every sailor did-but this was twice he'd dreamed about this monster shark.
Silently, he rested his head and forearms on his folded knees while he prayed to Ilmater, seeking solace in the Crying God's words. Only there was no solace. He sat trapped, and that was unbearable.
The despair in the brig soaked into him, ground into him with the filth that had accumulated after days of captivity. A large kettle from the galley served as the communal chamber pot and the smell from it pervaded everything. None of them had been allowed baths.
For some, Jherek knew, that was no real hardship because they didn't bathe often anyway, but he did. After having escaped his father's ship when he was a boy and making his way to Velen, he took pride in his cleanliness and manners. Those had been acquired things, things the wolfish boy who had run Bunyip's decks with sand buckets had never possessed.
The shark's voice echoed in his mind again. Why had it warned him? And turn back from what? There wasn't anything he could do about his present course.
He pushed the thought out of his mind but found himself occupied with the missing pearl disk. He'd been wrongfully given it and hadn't made sure the old priest had taken it back.
Then he'd lost it.
"Hey," someone said, "look."
Attracted by the prospect of a diversion, Jherek glanced up. Above them, a rat clung to one of the iron bars covering the hold. Short black fur covered it except for the pale pinkish-gray tail, resembling any of the rats that were the bane of cargo ships. It wasn't unusual to see them aboard ship after spending any time in a city. Most of the time they crawled along the hawser ropes and onto the vessels.
"Foul creature," Aysel snarled as he stood.
The rat only eyed him curiously instead of running. The behavior gained it even more of Jherek's attention.
Aysel limped over to the center of the hold and